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CONCERNING 

LAWN PLANTING. 



Concerning Lawn Planting. 



By 



/ 



CALVERT VAUX 

AND 

SAMUEL PARSONS, Jr.. 




NEW YORK: 

ORANGE JUDD COMPANY, 

751 BROADWAY. 

1 881. 



*0s> 



A& 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, 1881, by 

ORANGE JUDD COMPANY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



INTRODUCTION. 

The brief essays embraced in this volume have been prepared 
with the view of advancing the standard of landscape architecture 
in the United States. Some of them have already appeared in the 
Christian Union and the New York Tribune. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



Sky and Sky Line C. Vaux. 

My Friend the Andromeda . . S. Parsons, Jr. 

Nature and Art in Lawn Planting *. . C Vaux. 

Description of My Door Yard in Flushing S. Parsons, Jr. 

The Parks and Gardens of Paris . . C. Vaux. 

Mr. Hudnut's Terrace Garden . . S. Parsons, Jr. 

The Central Park C. Vaux. 

Plant Cabinets .'..', S. Parsons, Jr. 

How a Duck-Pond Became a Lake . S. Parsons, Jr. 

A Natural Park at Niagara . . C. Vaux. 



SKY AND SKY LINE. 

A man who owns an acre of ground cannot look far without 
reaching its lateral boundaries, but in the direction of the sky, his 
acre gives him a wide extent of view that constitutes a valuable 
property. 

On the open sea, the sky is visible clear to the horizon; while, 
from an acre of average ground, the view is more or less restricted. 
Nevertheless, observation will show that over half the sky can be 
seen from any average acre; and that as its appearance is con- 
stantly changing, it becomes practically an almost boundless pic- 
torial possession to a sympathetic observer, for the light and color 
of the sky is the controlling element of beauty in every attractive 
landscape. 

By most persons, a tree is conceived as a definite and inde- 
pendent fact of nature, its relation to the sky being considered 
accidental and comparatively unimportant; but the human eye 
can hardly help taking in both at the same moment, and really 
gets a general impression that is quite unconsciously made up of 
both. 

The landscape painter is trained to see the color relations of 
each to the other, and pays habitual attention to such combina- 
tions. To him the sky is constantly visible, asserting itself as a 
fact more positive even than the objects in front of it. The typi- 
cal landscape painter may be said, indeed, to observe the aspects, 
rather than the forms of nature. He is fascinated by some effect 
of light and shade and color, that depends on a particular season 
of the year, or the sunlight and atmosphere of some special hour 
of a day. To this he is attracted in connection with a group of 
harmonious lines; and he sees and paints his beautiful picture, 
which is, in fact, devoted to the illustration of a passing moment of 
time. 

In every sensitive observer this co-ordinating faculty of the 
landscape painter is somewhat active, although it does not seek 
expression through the hand. The lover of pictures is properly 
complementary to the painter of pictures; and the art of lawn 
planting appeals directly to this delicate capacity in the human eye 



8 

to blend foreground and middle distance, sky line and sky, into one 
harmonious, optical impression. Separate groups of tree forms 
may be in themselves attractive, or a country place may be rich in 
handsome isolated specimens of trees, or for its varied and pic- 
turesque foreground shrubbery; but in each case it will be defec- 
tive as a landscape composition if it fails in its sky line, and is 
consequently unattractive when seen in connection with the sky. 

It is evident, therefore, that in laying out a country place, large 
or small, with reference to its landscape attractions, the present 
and prospective sky line is one element of design that needs very 
skillful attention. 



MY FRIEND THE ANDROMEDA. 

I do not know why it is, but the appearance of a tree frequently 
presents itself to my mind in a semi-personal, or I might almost say 
human way. This is fanciful, no doubt, but only another instance 
of the facility with which the mind clothes simple objects of the 
senses with its own less simple drapery of the imagination. Asso- 
ciation of ideas may, perhaps, account for it. When a -tree is 
graceful, slender or drooping, we think immediately of womanly 
metaphors, like the poet's epithet of " Lady of the Woods," as 
applied to the Birch; and I fail to see any objection to such 
an innocent misconception. It not only pleases without doing 
harm to any one, but it does more. Such an attitude of mind 
tends to develop a more sympathetic consideration and study of 
plants under varying conditions. Horses, dogs, and even some 
comparatively worthless human beings, gain and have gained, dur- 
ing all time, much of this sympathetic consideration. May we not, 
in its humble sphere of life, plead a similar claim for the tree ? 
Every member of the lawn affords us a more profound and lasting 
impression, viewed from this seemingly fanciful standpoint of so- 
called personal sympathy, than if we- keep ourselves resolutely 
realistic in our feelings. I assure you, gentle reader, results will 
prove that the encouragement of these scientifically inaccurate 
vagaries of the imagination is neither bad for the tree nor the man, 
nor even for science. My thoughts are disporting themselves 



somewhat after this manner to-day, while my attention rests mus- 
ingly on a lovely specimen of an Andromeda arborea, or Sorrel 
tree. The October sun and air enrich and strengthen its tints and 
outline, and, in more than one way, its beauty arouses the most 
palpable feelings of pleasure. 

To most observers, indeed, it may be only a bright-leaved tree; 
but to me, as I look at it, come still fairer images and associations. 
I remember many a morning before this one when I have looked 
with pleasure on this tree. Last summer, in July, and August even, 
I used to enjoy its white-tasseled flowers, bending and delicately 
graceful as those of any hot-house plant. I insisted then on point- 
ing it out to my friends with, perhaps, what they felt to be the mere 
pride of ownership; and was wont to declare that here was a tree 
that not only bore lovely flowers, when scarcely another tree was 
so adorned, but that also proved good in color and attractive in 
form throughout the season. One of the few plants that neither 
paled its shining green, nor lost its firmness of leaf texture from 
May to October. 

On these occasions I was apt, on very slight provocation, to 
grow warm in praise of my Andromeda. It was everything that 
was lovely. The leaves were always shining and gracefully curving. 
Bark and twigs were refined and attractive in texture, coloring and 
picturesque contour. In every way this plant was full of beauty 
as pleasing as that of its August flowers. Several sober, matter-of- 
fact friends have, I know, smiled from time to time at my enthu- 
siasm on the subject of this Andromeda. But what matters that ? 
It is only their loss that they are unable to see with my eyes; and, 
in one sense, my gain. The charms of a flower are, to the pos- 
sessor, rather increased than otherwise by the sense that few people 
have the wit to appreciate them; but it is a little selfish, I know, to 
feel thus, although entirely human, and I am trying to make my 
peace with conscience by enlarging on the topic to-day. 

Truly, this brisk October morning, as I am dwelling on the 
lovely crimson color of my favorite, bright with sunlight and dew, 
and adorned with pendent seed vessels, I am disposed to doubt 
whether my enthusiasm, in all its fullness, has not been after all 
somewhat crude and unappreciative. Notwithstanding its evident 
excellence, it occurs to me now that this plant has beauty that is 
still greater than commonly appears, because it is so seldom suit- 
ably employed. It is not, like your oak or beech, sufficient unto 



IO 

itself in its isolated grandeur; but it is a tree that needs associa- 
tion to develop its highest possibilities of attraction. Like some 
rich beauty, whose loveliness is stimulated and brought out by the 
charms of other forms and faces, to pale again when left alone or 
neglected; or like the gifted and witty mind that needs the sym- 
pathy of kindred spirits to put it on its mettle, the Andromeda 
silently craves to be artistically disposed and grouped with other 
plants. 

I comprehend this morning, seemingly for the first time, that 
my Andromeda, my dear Andromeda, is ungainly. A crooked, 
slender stem, though, in a certain way, fine and picturesque, sup- 
ports its graceful mass of foliage in a decidedly unsatisfactory way. 
Surely this plant was not made to stand alone. On the contrary, 
I am inclined to think it decidedly affects society. Next spring, 
therefore, I am going to keep it in the conspicuous position it now 
occupies, but, at the same time, make it happy by surrounding it 
with friends and relatives. A mass of rhododendrons shall cluster 
in its rear, for they show a fine relation to the Andromeda in both 
appearance and nature ; and they are, moreover, rich and noble 
plants. These rhododendrons, in the outline of their grouping, 
will present deep bays and promontories of foliage, with points and 
flanks and bare places, masked with choice low-growing shrubs, 
like mahonias and evergreen thorns, the bush form of Chinese 
wistarias, and the golden and variegated weigela. My Andromeda 
shall not appear exactly on one of the points of these rhododen- 
drons, to which its leaves bear too close a relation for intimate 
grouping; but it shall be isolated and, at the same time, surrounded 
and connected with the mainland of foliage by the mahonias and 
evergreen thorns. The weak parts of the base of my plant will 
be thus masked, as so many plants apt to develop naked bases 
need to be masked, and its more excellent qualities brought out in 
finest relief by its association. 

Several years hence, perhaps, I may be looking at my Andro- 
meda, in its new position, as I am looking at it now, and, I am 
sure, in that case, it will comport itself with greater dignity and 
grace than it has ever done aforetime. Its crimson tints will seem 
richer when relieved against the shining green of the mahonias and 
rhododendrons; and its naturally taller form will rise with more 
striking and harmonious effect from amid the broad spreading 
masses of adjacent greenery. And why should I not give fitting 



1 1 

companions to my fair Andromeda ? It is to me of greater value 
than my pictures, and yet I rehang and regroup my pictures with 
the greatest care. Certainly, sympathy of this sort is not wasted 
on plants, which should be treated as sensitive children that need, 
to be deeply influenced in the best way by sympathetic personal 
comprehension and care. 



NATURE AND ART IN LAWN PLANTING. 

An imitation of nature, however successful, is not art; and the 
purpose to imitate nature, or to produce an effect which shall seem 
to be natural, and therefore interesting, is not sufficient for success 
in the art of lawn planting, which depends on a happy combination 
of many circumstances that nature, unassisted, is not likely to bring 
about. 

A scene in nature is made up of various parts; each part has its 
individual character and its possible ideal. It is unlikely that acci- 
dent should bring together the best possible ideals of each separate 
part, merely considering them as isolated facts; and it is still more 
unlikely that accident should group a number of these possible 
ideals in such a way that not only one or two, but that all should 
be harmoniously related one to the other. It is evident, however, 
that an attempt to accomplish this artificially is not impossible, and 
that a proper study of the circumstances relating to the perfect de- 
velopment of each particular detail will, at least, enable the designer 
to reckon surely on a certain success of a high character in that 
detail, and a comprehensive bringing together of the results of his 
study in regard to the harmonious relations of one, two or more 
details may enable him to discover the law of harmonious relation 
between multitudinous details; and if he can discover it, there is 
nothing to prevent him from putting it into practice. The result 
would be a work of art; and the combination of the art thus de- 
fined, with the art of architecture, in the production of landscape 
compositions, is what may properly be denominated landscape 
architecture. 



12 



DESCRIPTION OF MY DOOR YARD IN FLUSHING. 

My lawn, strictly speaking, is but a door yard of fifty by one 
hundred feet in extent, of which a considerable portion is occupied 
by the house and paths. It derives its only right to the name of 
lawn, from the fact that it is constructed on the same general prin- 
ciples as would apply to a place of several acres. I do not mean 
that such principles should never be modified, but that, in the main, 
they must be adhered to on every well-planted lawn. 

First of all, my place cannot help possessing in its way the gen- 
eral qualities of a picture, although a cabinet picture, to be sure, 
if its surface is compared with larger lawns. There is here, as 
elsewhere, first the foreground, then the middle distance, and, be- 
hind all, the background. The possible lights and shadows of the 
lawn picture were studied at the outset, and special points made 
emphatic. I have looked upon the nearest approach to velvety 
turf I can get in this climate as an excellent canvas on which to 
paint with lovely plant color and form. Everywhere the exist- 
ence of this charming groundwork is kept in full view by retain- 
ing broad open stretches. On such spots shifting effects of sun- 
light and shadow have free play, and we gain that restful sensation 
which is somehow associated with green grass. Many think such 
a door yard as mine fit only for a few carelessly scattered plants, 
an uninteresting arbor vitse, and, perhaps, a neglected bed of cole- 
uses and geraniums. Every one, however, must be influenced by 
his individual taste and temperament. I really cannot help choos- 
ing to treat my door yard or lawn lovingly and thoughtfully, and if 
I have failed as a painter in more than one respect, I have not failed 
to obtain a really choice collection of plants grouped so as not to 
injure each other. The plants are perfect specimens, individually, 
as far as may be , but I have also sought to avoid primness and 
inartistic formality. 

On my front porch or piazza, covered with two kinds of honey- 
suckles, one notices also two Virginia creepers and two Wistarias. 
I have one path directly to my gate, fifteen feet distant. There is 
nothing else in the way of paths about the place, except a narrow 
side entrance passage, between the fence and house, leading to the 
back door. The house is placed on the extreme east side of the 
lot, a location that does not give the best exposure for my planta- 



13 

tions. I have, therefore, in this case, set out a number of ever- 
greens on the north and west, to suggest coziness and give actual 
protection from cold and wind. The feeling of seclusion is pro- 
vided for along the street, not by a hedge which, as generally un- 
derstood, is a formal and unnatural thing, but by an irregular 
line of choice, medium-sized evergreens four or five feet apart. 
Among these are such varieties as the golden Japan cypress, pic- 
turesque, soft and glowing with color; the broad-leaved hemlock, 
dark and statuesque ; the Grecian silver fir, exquisite in early 
growth; and the dainty sprays of the fountain-like weeping hem- 
lock. The remainder of the front line, and a small part of the west 
side of the place, is taken up by an irregularly planted group of 
somewhat larger choice evergreens. An irregular shelter is thus 
obtained in the coldest quarter, and a strong emphasis given to an 
important part of the place. In the northwest corner stands the 
conical, almost columnar, form of the bluish green Swiss stone 
pine, at once making a strong feature in the right spot, and vary- 
ing the sky line of fringing plantations. All around the place 
these important points are marked by some suitable form of tree. 
On each side of the front gate, for instance, are two spireas Thun- 
bergii, with their lovely foliage softening the stiff perpendicular 
lines of the posts, and making picturesque and graceful the entrance 
which is usually prosaically formal. 

The general character of the plantations of my place are en- 
tirely fringing, there being no room for single plants, except in 
nooks of the house, if we are to allow due space to open turf. We 
have thus an irregular line of evergreens in front of the house, and 
then the protecting mass of similar plants in the northwest corner. 
Among the last, besides the stone pine, may be noted the majestic, 
symmetrical Nordmann's fir; the feathery, graceful sprays of the 
retinospora obtusa, and the greyish blue of the strange-looking 
glaucous juniper (Juniperus glauca) and the retinospora squar- 
rosa. On the inner line of this mass are found more dwarf varie- 
ties, such as the glowing and exquisite hardy azalea, the grand 
flowers and foliage of the rhododendron, and the miniature ever- 
greens like Gregory's spruce, dwarf black spruce, dwarf silver fir 
and dwarf pines. 

Properly speaking, this is the foreground of the picture made 
up of the choicest material in the way of plant color and form, 
with the specially protecting effect that evergreens supply. I can 



H 

suggest no simpler, and perhaps better, method for selecting the 
best positions for the individuals of a group of either evergreen or 
deciduous shrubs and trees than the following: Define, in a general 
way, the outline of your group, which should be easy and flowing; 
then step here and there, within the prescribed boundaries, in en- 
tirely irregular fashion, with paces three or four feet in length. At 
the point where each step falls, there set your plants, retaining in a 
general way the lower individuals on the outside. It is well to dis- 
tribute also some of the smaller shrubs throughout the body of the 
plantation, in order to avoid the abhorrent clump form. 

Looking beyond this foreground of predominating evergreens - 
down along the fence, you will recognize the more exquisite mate- 
rial of the foreground, running into and characterizing the nearest 
part of the still choice material of the middle distance. On leaving 
the evergreens, we notice first a little group of three Japanese 
maples, for groups to be picturesque should consist only of odd 
numbers. These, as well as most Japanese maples, are dwarf trees 
rather than shrubs, and are dyed with many colors. Here is a leaf 
suffused with living gold; there, on another plant, a color that 
might be Tyrian purple, for nothing of the kind could be richer. 
On still another leaf are the various colors of rose, pink, green, 
white and yellow. As to the forms, they are still more varied, even 
at times on the same plant; the most remarkable having leaves 
divided like veritable lace. Skirting along the fence, and beyond 
these clusters of dwarf hardy maples, into the distinct province of 
deciduous shrubs, we find the lovely pink flowering Japan Judas 
tree and the Japan snowball, with rich foliage and large persistent 
balls of flowers. Here is the exquisite deutzia gracilis; the golden 
spirea, studded in June with white flowers; and the feathery sprays 
of the strange-looking tamarisk, beaded with flowers in July and 
August, when we have few plants in bloom. 

All the way down and around the board fence that covers the 
flank and rear of my lot extend these flowering deciduous shrubs, 
generally four feet apart, and abounding in a series of blooms 
throughout the summer. The larger ones are, of course, planted in 
the rear and along the fence, but occasionally, two or three plants 
removed from the fence line, are low-growing varieties, intended to 
create the picturesque effect of bays and points of foliage, amid a 
seeming lake of emerald turf. In either corner of the rear of the 
lot larger trees are planted, to give more emphasis to special points 



i5 

as well as more variety of sky line, a horsechestnut on one side, 
away from the house; and, on the other, a cluster of two maples 
and a liquidambar for the enjoyment of autumnal color. 

It should be evident, from this brief sketch, that my principal 
endeavor has been to secure first, what I may term in this connec- 
tion, comfort and enjoyment for the plants in their personal rela- 
tions ; and then, however imperfectly, picturesque effects in 
genuine, though miniature, fashion. My conviction has been that 
picturesqueness should be sought before everything else on the 
lawn, except the actual health of the plant; that picturesqueness 
which, in the eloquent phrase of Isaac Taylor, claims as its own 
" the cherished and delicious ideas of deep seclusion, of lengthened, 
undisturbed continuance;" that "abhors the square, the perpen- 
dicular and horizontal;" that is, "in a word, the conservatism of 
landscape beauty, and suggestive of secure and placid longevity, 
domestic sanctity and reverence." 



THE PARKS AND GARDENS OF PARIS. 

The improvements of the pleasure grounds and parkways of 
Paris, which now gives so much character to the, city, was initiated 
during the Empire, and has been quite generally credited to that 
form of Government, while failure elsewhere has been attributed 
to not being blessed with a Napoleon. It is, therefore, satisfac- 
tory to find that in the edition for 1878 of Robinson's Notes on the 
Parks and Gardens of Paris, the author can tell us, by way of 
comment on this suggestion, that since the establishment of the 
Republic in France, improvements calculated to produce the best 
effects on the beauty and salubrity of Paris, have been carried out 
more vigorously than before, with this difference, that , they are 
done more economically. 

Robinson, it seems, approached his subject at the outset from 
the strictly horticultural side, being • engaged by the Times to 
make notes that might be helpful to England with reference to the 
culture of fruits and vegetables, in which the French excel, the 
Paris market gardens yielding threefold more produce than is 
gathered from a similar extent of garden ground elsewhere. He 
was probably as fit to make these observations as any other man 
that might have been selected, but he also showed a special aptitude 



i6 

for the appreciation and description of the great system of public 
parks, parkways, and city gardens that have been formed within the 
last twenty years in Paris. In this department of his book he stands 
somewhat alone, and has rendered good service to the English- 
speaking public at a critical time, because his statements on the 
aesthetic side grow out of wholesome artistic instincts, chastened by 
a cultivated taste, while they are evidently based on a sufficiently 
practical knowledge of the horticultural side of his subject. 

The keynote of his book is sounded at the outset in an attack 
on the needlessly dismal line and square system of planting that is 
commonly adopted by botanists in their gardens, and it is satisfac- 
tory to learn from so good a practical authority that there is no 
scientific reason for planting such a garden in the formal style, and 
that the expression of the beauty of the vegetable world is the 
proper work of a national botanic garden. 

The excellencies of the French landscape gardener's concep- 
tion seem to be shown to the highest advantage in the public square 
or city garden, and the smaller it is the more apparent does the 
superiority of the Paris system become. Certainly, the Square of 
St. Jacques, with its grand old church tower in the center, deserves 
to be selected by Robinson as a typical example, for it has the in- 
explicable quality of attraction that belongs to works of the highest 
art, and transcends any street garden ideal that is likely to have 
been formed in the mind of a visitor who sees it for the first time. 

The Pare Monceau is an example of a larger city square. Rob- 
inson complains that it is slashed into four pieces by needless roads; 
but very few visitors will refuse to accept any reason the designer 
may have had for this arrangement, because it is so well done that 
the result is an agreeable one, and it may be looked at simply as a 
design for a public pleasure ground based on an intersection of two 
necessary thoroughfares. Under such circumstances, the roads 
crossing the park, for which they give occasion, may be slightly 
curved, and a pleasant diversion of a straight line street system 
may thus be secured without any appreciable loss of time to the 
visitor who passes through the park in connection with his ordinary 
avocations. 

The only art that is so thoroughly well understood by the public 
as to be instinctively criticized by everybody is the art that provides 
a fresh newspaper decoration for our breakfast tables every morn- 
ing. The habit of being influenced by reading is, in fact, acquired 







~. - J . - ■'- ■; . 



5TREELT 



Grounds of Mr. A. HUDNUT, Orange, N.J. 



AS 



,/MO OUT BY VAUX & Co. 



i7 

now-a-days so early in life, that it seems a natural instead of an 
artificial way to get information, and dull books are rejected almost 
automatically. Robinson has the pungent, readable quality that 
would make his work what is called successful, without special 
reference to its quality in other respects, and if its influence had 
been cast on the wrong side, morally or artistically, it would have 
been as decidedly felt for harm as it now is for good. His criticism 
is out-spoken and trenchant, but in the interests of the nobler 
aspects of the question. He does not, however, see clearly with 
the artist's eye, or he would not choose to say, when bewailing a 
lost opportunity in his native city, " This is not only sad, from its 
depriving us of so much beauty that London might possess, but 
also from its far more serious evil in the depreciation of property." 

He misses it again, when, speaking of the art of landscape design, 
he says that " improvements will never come through architects, 
because their work is different, even in kind." 

The kinship that he fails to see is, in a community of artistic 
aims, each desiring to build up a beautiful combination of forms 
and colors in the open air, in accordance with a pre-conceived 
design gradually developed out of common materials by the hand- 
labor of others, The two arts are very close together in theory, 
and are destined in the future to be more closely allied in practice. 
In fact, the chief contribution that the French have made during 
the last twenty years has been in this direction. They have shown 
how city architecture can be glorified by judicious planting, and 
how greensward and trees, shrubs and flowers, may be as pliant in 
the hands of an artistic designer as wood or stone. 



MR. HUDNUT'S TERRACE GARDEN. 

During early boyhood, I paid long visits at the home of a dear 
old grandmother, in one of the most thoroughly crystalized towns 
of New England. Grandmother was a Quaker of the old school, 
and a pillar of the meeting, consequently everything about her was 
of the approved old-time sort. The garden, certainly, was no ex- 
ception to the rule. I think I see now, the sober, dignified Quaker 
ladies, attired in suitable dove-color, pacing the garden walks or 
daintily plucking flowers. Surely, finer flowers never grew than 



were reared in that garden, for the maintenance it received was ex- 
quisite. What sunny hours we children spent in it. And it was 
truly a charming spot, though something must be alloAved for the 
glamour of boyish freshness and spirits. I feel, indeed, after see- 
ing all the modern inventions, that I could cheerfully forego the 
most blazing effects that we behold now-a-days on expensive lawns, 
for the privilege of enjoying once more the old garden behind 
grandmother's house. I wish you could see the quaint old place as 
I recall it after the lapse of many years. It was, I confess, a some- 
what formal and prim affair ; but there was nothing commonplace 
or vulgar about it, as in the baser sort of what is now called rib- 
bon gardening. On the contrary, there was a distinct flavor of in- 
dividuality in the character of its appearance. The designer, being 
either a practical housewife, or inspired by one, had thought of 
many things besides mere ornament, and even the ornament had a 
distinct difference, which gave this garden a special suggestiveness 
of its own. 

The paths were laid out with entire regularity, and marked with 
long rows or borders of dwarf box; but there the regularity and same- 
ness ceased unless we count as regular the scrupulously kept gravel 
of the walks, bedded with white pebbles. Such a garden naturally 
had its grape-vine, trained on some suitable supports, which, in this 
case, happened to be the stable wall. The next-door neighbor, I 
remember, had an arbor for his grape-vines, that began, as it seemed, 
nowhere in particular, and ended twenty feet off, with the most de- 
lightful neglect of any why or wherefore, except that it existed for 
the grape-vine; that was evidently enough for Deacon Jones. Now- 
a-days such an arbor must have done duty alike as a place for 
seats, for a promenade, and also for the display of architectural 
ornament in the Queen Anne style. Not that such a triple per- 
formance of duty is not proper enough, but only it was not the way 
of gardens of those earlier days. 

For the economies of the house, there were all sorts of fragrant 
herbs, such as thyme, sweet-marjory, sage, mint, and half-a-dozen 
other sweet-smelling and savory plants, that were on this account, 
however, none the less attractive as ornaments of the garden. They 
were not only delightful in themselves, but delightful because they 
reminded us of grandmother's wonderful store-closet, from which 
issued so many good things. 

But grandmother's garden was, before all things, a productive 



19 

flower-garden. Unlike modern gardens, created for external show 
alone, it was a real store-house of color and odor, out of which one 
could, day after day, gather rich treasures, and yet leave its beauty 
apparently undimmed. Everybody about the house, boys included, 
was welcome to pluck a flower occasionally without let or hindrance. 
The flowers, indeed, seemed actually to enjoy being plucked. They 
were not, of course, specially rare, and yet, I am sorry to say that 
it might be difficult to find some of them now-a-days. Their sim- 
ple charms have, in fact, been almost entirely obscured by the glit- 
tering novelties of the modern horticultural world. For instance, 
there were those rich old damask roses. They are seldom, if ever, 
seen now; and yet what masses of them there were in grandmoth- 
er's garden, and how well I remember their rich color, and the de- 
lightful odor they exhaled when the dew was resting on their petals. 
Where shall we find now such beds of sweet-scented pinks, not car- 
nations, but real hardy pinks ? Nowhere; for they are out of fash- 
ion now. Tall clusters of phloxes stood here and there. Blue 
larkspurs, tall, quaint and lovely, nodded above carpets of portu- 
laca vine, studded with scarlet flowers. Broad patches of the ram- 
pant-growing, gorgeous herbaceous pseony were striking in effect, 
close by the straggling foliage and flowers of the sweet-pea. Great 
hollyhocks were there, too, with richly colored petals, the pure out- 
lines and decorative appearance of which fail not to charm the 
eye even now, amid the multitudinous resources of the modern gar- 
dener. 

Snowdrops, crocuses and other bulbs used to spring up as if by 
magic, year after year, in secluded spots of grandmother's garden. 
Evidently no definite arrangement had been applied to any of these 
plants, but somehow they were seen to be greatly to the advantage 
of the general effect. All stood together, just as they happened to 
come, behind the borders of box, in the rich, weedless brown earth. 
How fresh that brown earth smelled as it was dug up in early 
spring! Of other climbers than the grape-vine there were few.. 
Wistarias, clematesis, and the long list of similar plants of the pres- 
ent day were little used then. Filling their place, in their own at- 
tractive way, were delicate morning-glories and graceful cypress 
vines, trained with some formality and with almost reverential 
care. 

But now comes in the question why I call up these memories, 
and what they have to do with Mr. Hudnut's terrace garden, 



20 

of which a general plan is given in our illustration of his place. 
Certainly a family likeness may be recognized. At first, it may 
seem remote, and near views of elegant houses, done in modern 
style, and farther glimpses of picturesque hillsides may seem to 
have little kinship in appearance with the neat streets and walled 
yards of the quaint New England town where the garden I have 
been talking about, flourished. 

But if we look over the surroundings more critically, we may 
perhaps explain how grandmother's garden has influenced the treat- 
ment of this design. Mr. Hudnut's terrace garden is situated at the 
rear of the main building, on a hillside, out of which the site of the 
house itself has been excavated. The views from this building, of 
long stretches of lawn and varied masses of shrubbery, extending 
to the street, are pleasing, and the picturesque appearance of the 
house made us hesitate to doom the ground on its north side to the 
commonplace purposes of a vegetable garden. As the windows of 
the parlor have an outlook in this direction, it seems unfair to im- 
press the idea of long rows of beets and turnips upon the eye of a 
visitor, who must naturally enter this part of the house, after being 
agreeably impressed by the well-kept front lawn. The place is 
only four acres in extent, and an owner, under the circumstances, 
can better afford to buy vegetables, or grow them on hired ground, 
than to sacrifice any portion of the possible daily feast for the eyes 
that can be secured if the outlook in every direction is made up of 
flowers, trees and greensward. Abandoning the idea of a vegetable 
garden, we endeavored to strike out a new line of treatment in- 
stead of ornamenting this particular spot with routine rugs of bed- 
ding plants, to be marshalled in and marshalled out by the fifty 
thousand every year ; and we finally decided to construct, in place 
of a garden full of vegetables, or bedding stuff, a mixed border of 
hardy, flowering, herbaceous plants. 

Owing to the nature of the ground, and the requirements of 
drainage, we found it necessary to make two terraces, thus raising 
a plateau of land about one hundred feet square, somewhat above 
the level of the parlor windows. 

This arrangement gives the owner a simple form of terrace gar- 
den, a name having quaint associations, dating back to Elizabethan 
times. It is necessarily formal in appearance, and therefore con- 
trasts with the general park-like aspect of the place. To secure 
unity of effect within itself, it is secluded completely by a border 



21 

of deciduous flowering shrubbery, which has an exterior irregular- 
ity of outline that enables it to take its place in the general effect, 
when seen from the park-like lawn beyond. 

Immediately in front of the parlor windows, a tour de force 
seems to be admissible — something that should be thoroughly iso- 
lated, and yet attached, as it were, to the lines of the building itself. 
In this case, it takes the form of a color mat, showing a salient, 
architectural design, clearly marked out, with rich-colored plants 
that only grow in one year, to a height of five or six inches, and 
therefore, in this case, numbering many thousands. Here are 
echeverias, altenantheras, pyrethrums, allysums, gnaphaliums and 
the like. The colors thus obtainable, are varieties of vivid green, 
yellow, red and white. In such a place, we believe that such de- 
signs are entirely warrantable. Ordinarily, we object to such elab- 
orate work as artificial, and troublesome to replant every year. 

Passing up the two flights of stone steps that ascend to the ter- 
races, with their intervening terrace walk, we come to the more in- 
dividual garden that we have attempted to arrange for the place. It 
consists of a square of green turf, with the corners cut to an octa- 
gonal line, and then a border of eight feet, for mixed hardy herba- 
ceous plants, lined on the farther side by walls of California privet 
and other deciduous shrubbery. At the base of the California priv- 
et, scarce two feet away, are planted deutzia gracilis and hyperi- 
cum Kalmianum (St. John's wort), to mask, with their low, bushy 
foliage, the inevitable bareness of the larger plants at that point. 
On either corner of the grass plat, are tall urns for flowers, and on 
four keypoints of effect, still farther in, are tall clusters of the daz- 
zling white arundo donax variegata, or ribbon-grass, mingled with 
a blazing spike or two of the red hot poker plant (Tritoma uvaria 
grandiflora), the only tender varieties out of the vases to be found 
in the terrace garden proper. 

And now we may indicate the special points of resemblance in 
this design to what we have called my grandmother's garden. They 
are to be found, principally, in the border of plants, eight feet wide, 
that skirts the entire grass plat. Each angle of this grass plat is 
cut off, making a large, eight-sided figure, with four long and four 
short sides. A strip of turf two feet wide, is first left, and then 
comes the mixed skirting border, of hardy herbaceous plants. Here, 
as in grandmother's garden, there is plenty of color and odor scat- 
tered about in somewhat promiscuous order, and ready to the hand 



22 

for plucking or not, as the passing mood may determine. In a gen- 
eral way, the large-growing plants are placed at the back, beyond a 
row of lower habit, and next the path we find the smaller speci- 
mens. Taken as a whole, however, the appearance of the plants, 
about two feet apart, would be called entirely irregular, and instead 
of bare spaded earth, generally considered necessary in such places, 
the entire surface beneath the plants is covered with varieties of 
hardy creepers, such as moneywort, periwinkles, sedums, sandwort, 
mountain everlasting, arabis, or rock cress, not forgetting the pretty 
creeping forget-me-not, and the turfing daisy, with its lovely little 
blue flowers. All the plants in this border are entirely hardy, and 
safe to last for many years without being renewed. Anyone may 
enjoy here abundant color, and odor of the most charming kind, for 
the greater part of the year. First, in early spring, peep out flow- 
ers of the lovely blue and red hepaticas, of the trailing arbutus, the 
dainty New England mayflower, and certain of the anemones, or 
wind flowers. The bloodroot, too (Sanguinaria Canadensis), very 
dwarf, is always eagerly looked for in early spring, on account of 
the delicate charm of its pure white buds tenderly enfolded with 
leaves; later on, a clump of its opened flowers are very showy. 

Then in May come still more, and, if possible, lovelier flowers, 
many of which last on far into summer. Such are larkspurs, gar- 
den pinks, the exquisite stemless gentian (Gentiana acaulis), candy 
tuft (Iberis), the asphodels, favorites of the ancients; several beau- 
tiful species of violets, and charming species of anemone, still 
blooming on into summer. Strictly summer-blooming kinds of her- 
baceous plants there are, of course. Here, of course, are bright 
yellow achillias, the quaint and exquisite blue and yellow aquilegias, 
or hardy columbines, with strangely formed petals, the dainty hare- 
bells, showy coreopsises, day lilies, certain lovely species of gentian, 
the wonderful scarlet cardinal flower, brilliant yellow poppies, rich 
blue and scarlet foxglove like penstamons, veronicas, white astilbe 
Japonica, the garden phloxes and liatris or blazing star. 

Autumn flowers are not forgotten. Masses of golden rod (Soli- 
dago), and orange-colored milkweed (Asclepia), and purple asters 
are scattered throughout the border. The blue aconitum autum- 
nale or autumn monkshood, the curious chelone, or turtle head, and 
the dwarfer kinds of sunflowers. 

Last, but not least, just before winter sets in, we dwell with de- 
light on the brilliant yellow and purple flowers of the chrysanthe- 



23 

mums. Your attention has been directed in this description to 
only a few of the plants in this border of mixed hardy flowers. 
More than a hundred and fifty varieties are used. Before leaving 
the subject, it seems worth while to dwell for a moment on the Japan 
irises, planted in distinct lines within three formal recesses of the 
California privet, arranged for their reception. They appear in 
spring, and present, with their curious forms and hues — as"i strange 
and beautiful in their way as any orchid — one of the mosft unique 
and charming effects in the entire garden. The broad, straight 
paths that run past all these flowers, and the grass plat and croquet 
ground make a worthy frame for our border, and everywhere the 
eye meets, at almost any season of the year, objects of interest. 
This place has, therefore, an attraction that is related somewhat to 
the charm grandmother's garden possessed for us in early days. 
There is, first, the neatness and perfect keeping that suits the level 
space adjoining a terrace and the architectural lines of a house, and 
then there is all the profusion, and far more than the variety, that 
characterized the floral treasures of the old fashioned example. 
More than that, we have individuality of beauty, which is, in one 
sense, the best of all beauty, fostered in the highest degree. One's 
economical instincts are satisfied with the idea of possessing flowers 
that need no re-setting year by year, and one's instinct for beauty 
can certainly ask for no more abundant feast than is here spread 
out. 

A well ordered country place must have a lawn with its several 
capabilities properly developed, its perfect greensward being planted 
with evergreen and deciduous trees, shrubberies and flower-beds in 
their proper places near the house; but this mode of obtaining 
plant effect may properly be contrasted with other modes, and one 
of the most legitimate of these seems to be a mixed border of hardy 
herbaceous plants and wild flowers, the true inheritor and successor 
of my grandmother's garden. 



THE CENTRAL PARK. 

The principal defect of the ground originally appropriated to 
the Central Park was, that it offered very few comparatively level 
tracts of sufficient area to make a definite meadow-like impression 
on the eye. The ground is for the most part broken, undulating, 
picturesque and rocky, and this is confessedly a desirable quality 
for a park site to possess, because it is a comparatively rare one. 
Most of the large parks, such as Hyde Park, in London, the Bois 
de Boulogne, in Paris, and the Phoenix Park, in Dublin, are mani- 
festly lacking in variety of natural surface; and every effort that 
art can make has to be resorted to for the purpose of relieving at 
intervals the general monotony of ground line which, in these parks, 
is the normal condition of things. Under such circumstances, it 
is evident that much can be done by planting trees of high and low 
growth, in such relation to each other that the sky line will be 
agreeably diversified, while the level of the soil is but slightly 
varied. Nature works on so large a scale that it is rarely practi- 
cable to construct artificial eminences of sufficient magnitude to be 
really impressive. It has been done at the Park du Chaumont, in 
Paris, quite effectively; but this is a rare example. 

It may be remarked, in this connection, that the sense of quiet 
repose ministered to by a large lawn surface is not satisfied by pic- 
turesque ground, however vigorously it may be planted; and as the 
need for quiet repose in this work-a-day world is more constant 
than the need for vigorous stimulus, a lack of pastoral, meadow- 
like stretches of lawn in any large public park will always be felt by 
the habitual visitor to be a serious disadvantage. 



RIBBON GARDENING. 

I fear that many do not comprehend the real tenor of certain 
disparaging remarks uttered from time to time concerning ribbon 
gardening, coleuses, geraniums, etc., by excellent authorities on taste 
in planting. 'Prejudice, conceit or a desire to be distinguished for 
taking a new line of discussion, are attributed to persons who 
should be held far above suspicion in this respect. There is clearly 
a misunderstanding in the matter. That good ribbon gardening 



25 

and properly employed coleuses and geraniums may be really 
charming few persons of knowledge and taste will hesitate to ac- 
knowledge. It is only against the false and vulgar methods of 
slashing and striping the fair surface of our lawns, under the pre- 
tense of ribbon gardening, that the shafts of righteous ridicule and 
invective are directed. 

Properly speaking, all ribbon gardening is a tour de force that 
should display its effect only in connection with the architectural 
lines of a building or in an out-of-the-way and secluded part of the 
lawn. The only reason for its being at all should lie in the essen- 
tial attractions and peculiarities of a diverse and rich collection of 
plants, the charms of which can only be thus displayed with proper 
effect. Let us consider an excellent illustration of the point I wish 
to make. Mr. Hunnewell, of Wellesley, Mass., has on his lawns, 
which are certainly unequaled in America, an instance of the proper 
employment of works of this character. Near his greenhouses, 
completely shut in by high, squarely clipped hedges of evergreen, 
we see through the single small passage-way a most noteworthy 
ribbon, or, more properly, geometric garden. Every form in the 
garden is a strictly geometric figure of some sort. The walks are 
all straight and square, and the grass cultivated and clipped into 
green velvet. There are square beds, raised with earth and studded 
with consistently formal plants, rosettes of echeverias for instance, 
and intricate designs worked out in low-growing varieties a few 
inches high. Lines of striped and variegated grasses, displaying an 
agreeable license in their bending irregularity and increased variety 
of attitude, wave on either side or corner of the path. Strange, 
tropical looking, richly colored plants of still larger size stand here 
and there in masses regularly and formally arranged. Palms, too, 
tallest of all, and angular though graceful, are dotted about in the 
same linear fashion, and add greatly to the variety of height and 
color as well as to the unity of the effect, which is very far, indeed, 
from conveying any impression of a uniformly flat color surface.' 
Nor are coleuses and geraniums in any wise neglected. They have 
each their appropriate place in some design, where the contrast of 
their colors and the special charms of every individual variety are 
treated with tasteful and appreciative consideration. 

Now, why is it we feel so perfectly satisfied with the artistic 
success of this particular gorgeous exhibition of color in what may 
be unquestionably characterized as a specimen of ribbon garden- 



26 

ing ? Doubtless, something must be allowed to the agreeable sense 
of surprise at beholding unexpectedly so rich a feast of color en- 
tirely uninterfered with by any conflicting attraction. But I con- 
tend, however, that, in this instance, the chief cause of the true 
artistic pleasure afforded lies in the fact that the design is really 
conceived from the outset with a definite purpose of displaying 
most effectively the charms of a great variety of genera, as well as 
species and varieties having special characteristics well understood 
by the appreciative designer. Yet, in nine cases out of ten, we find 
ribbon gardening made up ot a few species and varieties of gerani- 
ums, coleuses and like gorgeously-hued plants, wrought into a mere 
mosaic of flat color. In fact, I believe that much of the false taste 
in ribbon gardening comes from selecting plants adapted to the 
limitations of a commonplace, highly colored pattern instead of 
insisting that the design should recognize the great variety of both 
form and color which is offered by well-chosen material. 

Of such ribbon gardening, of such a rich and dignified as- 
semblage of well endowed plants as one sees at Mr. Hunnewell's, I 
cannot speak in terms of too high respect, but of the ribbon garden- 
ing which is illustrated by the tarts and other confectionery of color 
in the parks and squares of Boston and New York I can only speak 
with abhorrence. Nothing milder in the way of condemnation can 
be expressed, concerning a long walk of many hundred yards lined 
with stripes of a million and a half of Gen. Grant geraniums and a 
few species of like showy bedding plants, than to declare it essenti- 
ally vulgar. 

The splashes of bright-colored plants, as they are usually em- 
ployed on both large and small lawns in America, are not only in- 
harmoniously blended and disagreeably contrasted, but very trouble- 
some and expensive to construct. Why not, since all such plants 
are necessarily reset every year in great numbers with the most 
elaborate care, limit their employment to small spaces adjoining 
the house, or to some out-of-the-way, secluded spot like that chosen 
by Mr. Hunnewell ? Surely nothing whatever of this nature should 
be so placed as to withdraw our attention as it rests on level greens- 
ward and noble trees; nor should we dwell on its engrossing char- 
acteristics to the neglect of the more exquisite charms of the wild 
garden and naturally planted shrubbery. 

Ribbon gardening is interesting and proper in its place, defin- 
itely co-ordinated and subordinated to other varied effects of the 



27 

lawn. At best, however, there is a suggestion of the barbaric in 
ribbon gardening, and in America our unlicensed employment of 
its most undisciplined and cheapest effects is one of the surest evi- 
dences of the crude and undeveloped condition of our taste in 
landscape gardening. 



PLANT CABINETS. 

In alluding to a plant cabinet design which in 1880 was exe- 
cuted for the then Mayor of New York, the Tribune said : 

" It is a common remark that the most encouraging signs of im- 
proved and improving taste are to be seen in the attention given to 
interior decoration. Perhaps it will not be held that any consider- 
able fraction of our people have such correct ideas as to home de- 
coration and its proper limitations that they stand in no need of 
professional advice. But it is plain that, year by year, a greater 
number of people are seeking counsel, and year by year the advice 
they hear and heed is growing better. Curtains, painted glass, car- 
pets, fittings and furniture of all kinds are now designed for the 
place and the man by artists, and by artists who interest themselves 
in working out particular individual problems. All this is in the 
right direction. One's house has been called his larger garment, 
and the owner should not only be interested in having it beautiful, 
but specially suited to himself and his conditions. 

" But while this general tendency is marked, it must be admitted 
that there are available means of embellishment which are strangely 
neglected. This is strikingly true of growing plants, which, under 
skillful hands, can be grouped in infinite variety and with the finest 
decorative effect. There is no lack of expenditure for floral emblems 
and designs which are employed as a part of the regulation parapher- 
nalia at weddings and funerals. Dinner tables are graced by im- 
mense bouquets which are only an improvement upon the artificial 
plants and flowers which display themselves before street windows. 
On state occasions, too, masses of flowers and foliage are hired 
from the nearest florist for special effect. But all this is apart from 
the purpose of permanent decorations. Conservatories of any size 
are expensive luxuries in thickly-built quarters of the city, where 
every inch of land is sought for, and too often the conservatory is 
not altogether satisfactory. A conservatory does not conserve un- 



28 

less the gardener lives in it, and a compromise between a gardener's 
greenhouse and a lady's boudoir is rarely fit for either. At best it 
is outside of the house; something to be visited for transient in- 
spection. 

" The need is to abolish the pot and shelf notion, and to have 
properly grouped plants which can be cared for by servants of 
average capacity. That this is accomplished in other countries 
proves little, but that it has lately been done by one of our land- 
scape artists for a well-known gentleman of this city is a matter 
worth recording. An extension north of the dining-room, less than 
ten feet wide, and into which two large windows open, gives little 
room for plants as ordinarily placed. But against the wall between 
the windows and in the corners, a layer of soil is held by moss 
bound with wires, and the whole is covered with closely growing 
lycopodium, making a perpendicular lawn upon which ferns, orchids 
and plants with delicately veined leaves are tastefully grouped. At 
the base of the south side is a row of the smaller growing palms 
and the like, and there are other pleasing features; but the key- 
note of the whole is the wall of verdure, which is a singularly happy 
device, beautiful in itself, and leaving the whole floor-space free for 
use. This, of course, is only one innovation that can be made in 
the ordinary plant-cabinet arrangement, but it is suggestive of how 
large a field there is in this direction yet open for clever designers 
in this special branch of art." 

I may add that the fundamental idea of this plant cabinet is to 
make a natural leaf-wall effect by using potted plants without show- 
ing the pots, and to increase the walking space by reducing the 
width of the window boxes as much as practicable. The limitations 
of space in this example are unusually contracted in one direction, 
the structure being only 7 feet wide, though 25 feet long. It is built 
on the north-side of the house: one side and one end of the cabinet 
consisting of glass, and the other walls being formed by the main 
building and a wing. In the wall of the main building are two large 
windows opening from the dining-room into the plant cabinet. 
The unoccupied spaces are, therefore, of glass or brick, except a 
wainscoting that runs beneath the sashes. If such a greenhouse 
or conservatory were 20 feet wide, the brick walls would be covered 
with staging to support rows of pots, and, in that case, although 
the conception of a conservatory, as usually understood, would 



2 9 

have been realized, pots would be the prime and chief object that 
would meet the eye at first glance. An attempt is made to solve 
the problem, in the present instance, by carrying a narrow window 
box, eighteen inches wide and ten inches deep, and about three 
feet from the ground, along the two glass sides of the cabinet and 
at the top edge of the wainscoting. This box is filled with clean 
sand, into which are plunged as many pots of plants as it will hold. 
Wandering Jew and panicum, a grass, are planted in the sand to 
cover up entirely disagreeable artificial forms. The plants in pots 
are selected with great care for contrasting beauty of flower and 
leaf, and with the same view to tasteful variety as one would take 
in arranging a light, graceful bouquet, the large plants in the center 
and the small ones in front, but always with natural irregularity. 
The varieties employed are climatically adapted to the north side 
of the house, where the sun does not shine until late in the after- 
noon. They are consequently selected for their leaf beauty rather 
than for their flowering qualities, because only a southerly aspect 
gives entirely satisfactory results with flowering plants. A few of 
these varieties may here with propriety be named: Showy yellow- 
leaved crotons, one of the brightest hued of plants; waving palms; 
the cactus epiphyllum, with its hanging flowers of splendid crim- 
son; maiden hair ferns, and other sorts; orchids, with their strange, 
foreign-looking blossoms; graceful dracasnas, both red and green; 
the picturesque pandanus utilis or screw pine; marantas with 
curious tracery of pink lines, and white calla lilies. 

The arrangement of the window boxes in this plant cabinet is 
simple, occupying little space and covering up the hot water pipes 
that heat the room. Yet even narrow boxes take up so much 
space that what is left of the seven feet width is all needed to pass 
along conveniently and examine the plants. Out of this strict lim- 
itation in one direction grew the idea of covering the walls' of the 
house with greenery, which, of course, economizes space on the floor 
in an agreeable manner, by erecting on end in the winter time a 
meadow of green studded with rich color. This bed was built up 
behind galvanized wire netting, painted dark-green, and of two- 
inch mesh standing out four inches from the brick wall of the 
house. The space between the netting and the wall is filled with 
moss or sphagnum, mixed with about one-fifth of its bulk of rich 
potting earth. In this medium or bed, large quantities of the 
green mossy lycopodium, in two or three species, are planted. 



3° 

Through the same meshes of wire, and mingling with lycopodium, 
are planted quantities of ferns of all kinds, particularly the adian- 
tums or maiden hairs. At the top are a few of the striking stag- 
horn ferns with their large grotesque fronds. To vary the ferny 
spread of herbage, there are planted all through the mass quantities 
ot the large, richly variegated foliage of begonia rex, as well as 
marantas and fittonias, curiously marked with lines of white or 
pink over a green groundwork. 

Partly on account of the drip, and partly on account of the evi- 
dent need of a border or proper base to this vertical plane of herb- 
age, boxes ten inches high and a foot wide are placed along the 
bottom of the network, which stop a couple of feet from the floor. 
In these boxes are planted ferns, palms (Latania Borbonica), calla 
lilies, and other plants specially adapted to withstand the evil ef- 
fects of the drip that must necessarily come from the lycopodium 
wall above. 

The vacant space obtained by this arrangement gives ample 
room to walk about and examine things conveniently, and the gen- 
eral impression to the eye is of being in a natural bower of green 
leaves and flowering plants. 



HOW A DUCK-POND BECAME A LAKE. 

" John, why can't you do something with that pond down there 
by the road ? It is a positive eyesore. Surely you could dig it 
out a little more and plant some trees about it. It wants improv- 
ing badly, and you ought to do something." 

John should explain here, as he recalls the above remarks made 
some time since, that he is a hard-working farmer who is tolerably 
forehanded with the world. His wife, whose words have been just 
quoted, is a busy-body in the best sense, with lots of taste and 
energy. She has decidedly a will of her own and a bright enthu- 
siasm that has led her into a startling amount of home decorations 
of late. I have been quite overpowered, not to say set up, at 
times by the triumphant efforts of genius that have on different 
occasions appeared in the way of artistic gimcracks made out of 
just nothing at all. Two or three years ago my wife extended the 



3i 

domain of her decorative undertakings to the outside of the house. 
At first I grumbled at her interference, as I called it, with a region 
peculiarly my own, but somehow things out of doors began to 
change in one way or another nevertheless. First, it was the 
straight road up to the front door, which I had carefully worked 
and otherwise kept in order until I had become quite proud of it 
This road looked stiff and was steep, it was now asserted. It must 
wind up more gracefully and on an easier grade, and have two or 
three groups of trees planted on its borders. And you may be 
sure it was not long before it did wind. Trees were planted and 
fences taken away, and I was easily taught to recognize the beauty 
of the gently sloping turf and bordering oak groves reserved 
originally as shelter for the cattle. To-day, however, as I distinct- 
ly remember, it is the duck-pond that my wife's good-natured 
attack has left on my responsive mind; it is the veritable duck- 
pond that lies in a sort of hollow close to the gate and forms the 
outlet for a stream where we grow our water-cresses. It occupies 
at this time not much over an acre, and has been considered worth 
the ground it takes for watering cattle and raising ducks and 
geese, besides the yearly crop of cresses. 

Well, to make a long story short, the outcome of our lively, 
rather one-sided encounter, which I have described at the com- 
mencement, is the attractive little scene before us. If you will 
notice, as we examine more closely, the old pond has been dug out 
lately at one end where the stream comes in. My wife insisted that 
the puddle or pond-like appearance should be gotten rid of in 
some way, and by a little contrivance we managed, while the men 
were carting away the earth, to make one or two points and bays, 
and a turn at the inlet like the bend of a crooked-necked squash. 
This prevents anybody from seeing the entire lake except for one 
short stretch which is blockaded with a heavy group of shrubs, of 
which the front ones dip into the water to stop people from getting 
round easily. Variety was what we were after, and an arrangement 
that would suggest an indefinite size in a simple way. The earth 
removed, as it happened fortunately, was needed to fill up a new 
barn-yard I was making. The bottom of the pond I didn't touch, 
as it was really " puddled " or cemented by nature, but in the banks 
I put every stone I found in digging out, and a number of large 
ones besides. I was determined to have as little slope as possible 
exposed by the changes of water level resulting from summer 



32 

evaporation. We had great fun planting the borders of our pond 
■ — lake we always called it after this. Much of the planting we 
did together in the evening, or at odd times, with perhaps a boy to 
help. The soil was solid and of good quality down to the water's 
edge, so we did not have much trouble in setting the plants direct- 
ly out. We didn't spend much money on plants, perhaps $50 at 
most, and contented ourselves with cheap varieties of shrubs, 
mostly deciduous, which in no case cost over seventy-five cents 
apiece, and generally not over thirty-five. One of our most effect- 
ive plants, you notice, is Adam's needle (Yucca filamentosa). It is 
planted on several of our points or capes, and when it is in bloom 
in the summer with its long spikes of large, creamy white fiowers 
borne on stalks four or five feet high, coming out of low masses of 
broad, stiff, sharp, bluish green leaves, it looks just the thing for the 
position. One of our nicest effects along the banks are plantations of 
honeysuckles on the steepest parts, such kinds as the golden-leaved, 
striped monthly and Halleana. Their growth is peculiarly pictur- 
esque, piled together in their vigor or pushing about single tendrils 
with wild, irregular grace. The leaves of these honeysuckles hang 
on late in autumn, and the flowers bloom in abundance more or 
less all summer. Virginia creepers and the beautiful Japan creeper, 
ampelopsis Veitchii, with their rich summer clothing and splendid 
autumn colors, we employed in several places. We had some old 
trees, decayed at the top, but sound in the trunk for eight or ten 
feet from the base. We left portions of the projecting branches at 
the point where we cut them off, so as to give them picturesqueness 
as a support. All such places we planted with Virginia and Japan 
creepers. Some of the lovely clematises were planted at the foot 
of piles of rocks — such as C. Virginica and C. apiifolia, these special 
ones on account of their abundant flowers in August. Nor have 
we forgotten to employ the great spreading masses of foliage and 
magnificent crimson and orange-colored, trumpet-like flowers of the 
trumpet creepers (Tecoma radicans and T. grandiflora). 

Our main mass, which we spoke of as planted to prevent any 
one occupying a position where all parts of the lake could be seen 
at once, is made up of common shrubs. Some of them are very 
effective, however, and of considerable size. Cornus sanguinea, 
with its red stems summer and winter, grows vigorously into great 
picturesque masses of rich, solid-looking foliage. Then there are 
the hydrangeas, H. nivea, with its tossing, white-lined large leaves, 



33 

and all other hardy kinds, notably H. paniculata grandiflora, with 
white and red trusses of flowers in fall. The spireas, of course, 
are quite a standby. In this group we have been careful to use the 
strong-growing, splendid golden variety of S. opulifolia, as well as 
S. Thunbergii, with delicate, dainty, golden leaves. There are 
narrow-leaved lilacs, Japan snowballs and Japan quinces, and low 
deutzia gracilis and hypericum kalmianum, with more than one 
waving tamarisk drooping delicate foliage and flowers in the midst 
of the same group, which thus makes a large, varied and most 
effective mass. At another point you will notice a considerable 
group of willows — and very suitable they are, too, for such positions. 
There are no common weeping willows (Salix Babylonica) in or 
near this group. We don't like them much ; one or two down at 
the foot of the lake are quite enough. They don't combine well in 
a group of other plants. Most of these willows of our groups are 
properly bushes of various tints. There is the delicate narrow 
purple-leaved rosemary willow, the narrow, so-called American 
weeping willow, one or two beautiful Japanese willows, another 
small-leaved one called tri-color, the large shining, laurel-leaved 
kind (S. pentandia), low-grafted Kilmarnock willows, and above 
all a beautiful silvery species, regalis. Among those willows were 
mingled several oleasters (eleagnus), the vigorous common horten- 
sis, narrow-leaved and silvery, and the large-leaved and far more 
choice and effective eleagnus longipes, a rare Japan species. 
Another group consists of sumachs straggling down a steep bank. 
There are lots of the common sumach, and mingled among its 
masses, or rather on the outskirts, are several of the cutleaved 
sumachs, with young leaves of peculiarly delicate shape. All these 
sumachs color splendidly in autumn. There are clusters of the 
sweet-scented, hardy and vigorous bush honeysuckle fragrantis- 
sima, as well as purple berberries and eunonymuses with striking 
scarlet berries, and the waving branches and beautiful early yellow 
flowers of the forsythia or golden bell. You see I have a few de- 
ciduous trees in single positions near the groups of shrubs, a silver 
poplar and balsam poplar and a scarlet and silver maple. We have 
scarcely any evergreens as yet, because I have found them quite 
expensive and not easy to transplant ; but I am going to try 
some trailing junipers, a stone pine and a weeping hemlock, and, 
above all, a Japanese cypress or two, with their rich, fern-like foli- 
age. Herbaceous plants, however, suited to its water edge, have 
3 



34 

not been forgotten: For instance, there are nodding red and white 
lilies, the bright scarlet cardinal flower, strangely beautiful Irises 
from Japan and elsewhere, golden rods, and some lovely little 
orchids. 

Well, now, considering the amount of money spent, don't you 
think my wife and I have done pretty well to make the spot look so 
attractive — just a pool, with natural-looking growth about it ? 
Neighbors coming in at the gate wonder what in the world has 
changed things so. The whole thing looks so much a matter of 
course now, that it really seems to me as if it had always been 
there. We mean to keep on planting, however, although the general 
outline of our work is established. Hereafter plants can be set out 
from time to time, as we may fancy. Let me tell you, though, after 
.all is said and done, that, although I don't brag of it, as you see, 
this lake of ours is really a big thing in the way of home decora- 
tion, and if I were to tell you how little it cost in hard cash, I think 
you would hardly believe it. 



A NATURAL PARK AT NIAGARA. 

In Lord Dufferin's speech made before the Society of Artists, 
at Toronto, Canada, some little time since, and generally alluded 
to by the press, he proposed an International Park in the vicinity 
of Niagara Falls. The idea is a charming one, and every true 
believer in Niagara will bless the noble lord, if his efforts on behalf 
•of the public should be successfully terminated. His notions in 
regard to the art of landscape gardening seem, however, to be some- 
what vaguely expressed, and I think he must have failed to convey 
his precise meaning in the paragraph in which he says, " that the 
proposed international park must not be desecrated, or in any way 
sophisticated by the puny efforts of the art of the landscape gardener, 
but must be carefully preserved in the picturesque and unvulgarised 
condition in which it was originally laid out by the hand of Nature." 

It is evident that there must be some way to treat well the 
territory now treated badly on the Canadian side, in the vicinity of 
the Falls. It should be entirely bare, or entirely covered with 
trees, or partly bare, and partly covered with trees. Success lies 
.somewhere, and should be logically foreordained. It will be gener- 



35 

ally acknowledged that on Goat Island may be found a beautiful 
example of natural landscape design, " carefully preserved in the 
picturesque and unvulgarized condition in which it was laid out by 
the hand of Nature." An analysis of its sources of effect will, 
however, show that if it was all burned over, a similar effect (if a 
record had been kept) could be reproduced with comparative 
rapidity, if the resources of the art of the landscape gardener were 
consecrated to the work. 

Some years since, while Mr. F. E. Church was one of our Park 
Commissioners, he showed me in his studio an original sketch of 
Niagara, and the conversation naturally turned on its present dis- 
advantageous surroundings, both on the American and the Canadian 
side, and on the desirability of securing to the public all that was 
really essential to a full enjoyment of its beauties. I remember 
Mr. Church's then mentioning incidentally, that he was under the 
impression that a close study of the subject in the future would 
show that it would be quite feasible, and perhaps desirable, to im- 
prove the artistic effect on the American side by opening up a few 
channels that would allow the water to flow here and there over 
.the high rock wall on Goat Island, between the Horseshoe and 
the American Falls, and thus give a sparkle and life to this subsi- 
diary portion of the scene, which would help the general effect to 
the artistic eye, by linking together in an easy way the two great 
falls, which at present seem to be somewhat disconnected, in conse- 
quence of what really looks like an untoward accident in the play 
-of natural forces. I was reminded of this conversation when, a 
few winters afterward, I was at the Falls, when the flow of water 
had been much reduced by a storm of wind that continued for 
•several days. Under these circumstances the water, pouring over 
the walls of rock to the right and left of the central gulf, was 
divided into separate falls, and although the impression of the 
Horseshoe Falls, extending as a unit from shore to shore, was thus, 
for the time interfered with, it seemed to be a fair illustration of 
the kind of secondary effect that had been hinted at as suitable for 
the intermediate region when the two grand falls are in their 
normal condition. 

The improvements on our New York Park had been in pro- 
gress for several years before the late Horace Greeley made a 
visit to it. His first stroll happened to be in company with a friend 
.of mine, who told me some time afterward that Mr. Greeley made no 



36 

comment except just as he was leaving it, when -he said, apparently 
with some sense of relief, " Well, they've left it alone better than I 
thought they would." And yet those who remember the initial pro- 
ceedings, will call to mind how complicated and apparently icono- 
clastic they were — the constant need for blasting in rock to secure 
convenient grades for road construction and for efficient drainage, 
the unintelligible processes of lake excavation, the incessant digging 
and delving necessary for the preparation of the soil, and to adjust 
the natural surface to the numerous archways demanded by the 
proposed subway system of roads and walks, all these, and a thou- 
sand other necessary incidents of gradual development had to be 
undertaken in regular sequence, under circumstances disadvan- 
tageous to all serenity of appearance, while the works were in 
progress. But the object in view all the time was, of course, the 
permanent retention of the interesting features of the landscape, 
and the preservation and emphasis of every natural characteristic 
of the site 

In the arts of architecture, painting and sculpture, the results 
are exactly determined by the limitations of the human brain and 
hand, but in the art of landscape design, no such boundary line is 
recognizable. 

Having studied carefully the works and the method of working 
of the Creator, the designer of a landscape can bring into successful 
play the great forces of Nature, and, subordinating his own person- 
ality, can secure for his work an undying vitality, which can only 
follow from such a direct reliance on the resources of the Infinite. 
In every difficult work the key-note of success lies, of course, in 
the idea of thorough subordination; but it must be an intelligent 
penetrative subordination, an industrious, ardently artistic, and 
sleeplessly active ministry that is constantly seeking for an oppor- 
tunity to do some little thing to help forward the great result on 
which Nature is lavishing its powers of creation. 



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